Book 15 (pt 2)
by jamesgatz1925
Summary: Greg hates his parents' relationship, hates his school work, and hates that the one person he actually likes thinks that Greg hates him. Things will get better. One day.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Hello! Great news! New story! Well, it's "Book 15", except it's Greg's point of view. So, if you haven't read Book 15, you should! I hope you enjoy this one and if you do, please review!**_

_**The whole thing is rated K+ because there's a lot of bad language.**_

* * *

Greg hates his literature class. It's not that he doesn't like to read or write, it's just hard for him to do both of those things. He hates reading in school because he can't always comprehend all of the literature they read. Shakespeare is hard to understand, of course, but so are books with a lot of different writing techniques. He just can't comprehend it.

Writing, however, he hates because all the ideas he has in his head? All the romance, all the humor, all the great ideas he has in there…it's just so hard to get out. He knows what he wants to say, he just never finds the right words to get his point across.

His teacher instructs the class to retrieve their books off the shelf, and Greg just sighs. He hates the book, but of course he's got to do what he's told. He gets up out of his seat and grabs the same book he gets every day: book #15. He doesn't know why, it's just a habit by now. He's always careful to put it in the exact same position as when he got it, because it's clear that someone's putting it there on purpose.

Greg throws himself back into his seat. He flips to the page instructed and begins to read.

Except, he doesn't read. Instead, his mind returns to the events of his morning, because it was all a bit too distracting to just forget.

Greg was woken up by his mother screaming at his father. The fighting had stopped for a while, which was wonderful, but three days ago his dad was fired from his already-too-low-paying job and his mum was tired of it. Instead of sticking around to listen to it, Greg left for school early without eating his usual big breakfast.

When he got to school, his best friend Hank was already there. And Hank didn't help. Hank isn't the type of friend to care about feelings, Greg knows this, but Hank immediately started harassing a few girls and shoved Greg when Greg told him to back off. None of their friends backed Greg, causing Greg to storm off in a rage.

He hasn't seen Hank since then. He doesn't really mind, it's just that after the morning he had, he wishes there was someone to talk to about it.

He feels so alone. All the time at school, having to walk around with happy people and pretend to be happy himself when he's hiding so much about his life is enough to drive him crazy.

Without noticing whatsoever, Greg starts doodling in his notebook. He looks down and just sees "Hi" written in his own handwriting, and he's shocked. Without knowing why, Greg rips out the paper, folds it up, and places it in the book.

* * *

The next morning wasn't much better for Greg. His father didn't even come home last night, causing his mother to be a wreck all night. Greg didn't know, however, if it was a happy wreck or a sad and nervous wreck. All he knows is she started drinking alcohol at 7 PM, was drunk by 8 PM, and Greg left at 9 PM. He walked around until he got too cold, then he walked home and went straight to bed. His mother was passed out on the sofa, so he left her there and left for school this morning before she was awake.

All of this makes him grouchy all day, and it especially makes him dread literature, just as he does every day. However, today there's something different. He had forgotten all about that note he left yesterday until he finds it again in his book.

"Hello?"

Greg smiles, then chuckles. Joy blooms in his chest; someone. That's just it. Someone is there.

"How are you?" Greg asks next. He puts the paper back where it was and actually begins to focus on reading.

* * *

Greg hates lunch, too. It gets very embarrassing when everyone asks you why you're not eating. Greg usually tells people he had a huge breakfast, or that he's got an early dinner planned, or sometimes he doesn't like to eat before gym, but it's all a lie.

On Wednesday, to avoid questions, he claims that he needs some alone time, so he goes out to the empty courtyard outside of the lunch room.

But really, if Greg is going to be honest, all of that isn't the only reason he likes going out to the courtyard.

And ahh, there he is. Mycroft Holmes: a square in perfectly pressed pants and fancy Italian shoes. What sixteen-year-old needs shoes that expensive? What sixteen-year-old needs to wear a tie every day? And those stupid, stupid glasses he wears every once in a while. Sure, they frame his face perfectly, they fit him, but they're still dumb.

Greg lays eyes on him and just wants to wreck him. Just once he wants to get that perfect white shirt dirty, he wants to wrinkle those pants, he wants to smash those glasses, he wants to use that tie for terrible things. He wants to see the perfection stained and tainted and impure.

Instead of doing something about that obsessive need to _ruin_the other boy, he just punches the book out of the boy's hands. It calms him a bit, relaxes the nerves he feels when he sees Mycroft. It's like when little kids see a little puppy and just get so excited that they want to squeeze it.

After he punches the book, he takes the sandwich out of Mycroft's hand. Just because he's so hungry.

Mycroft sighs.

Greg laughs. "What? You're not going to say anything?"

"Am I going to fight you over a sandwich? No, I'm not."

Greg steps on Mycroft's book, then kicks it away.

"I really can't believe that you have nothing better to do than to torment me, Gregory."

Greg's heart stutters when Mycroft calls him by his full name. Nobody ever does, as a matter of fact, he doesn't even know if his friends know that his name isn't just 'Greg'.

After half a second to steady his heart, he laughs. "Surprisingly, I have nothing better to do."

Mycroft gets off the bench to march over and angrily retrieve his book. He bends down and Greg watches intently, staring at those stupid tight pants he wears stretch impossibly further over his hips.

"And where is the rest of your bonehead posse?" Mycroft asks.

Greg shakes his head to clear his mind as he diverts his gaze. He shrugs as Mycroft is standing. "I don't know. Flirting with half the school by now, I bet." He lifts his leg onto the bench, resting his foot on Mycroft's backpack.

"And you're above all that," Mycroft says.

Well really, he is. Greg doesn't find the need for a partner as necessary as his friends. Hank, for example, has a different girlfriend each week. Greg, on the other hand, has never has a girlfriend. He's only kissed two girls in his life, and a few months ago, after noticing how unbelievably tight Mycroft wears his pants, he realized that it's not be because of the girls he knows.

"I like older girls," Greg replies anyway, making it a joke.

"I'm sure," Mycroft coldly says.

Greg decides to just be a jerk and drop the last bite of Mycroft's sandwich on his tray. He wipes crumbs from his hands onto his jeans, then picks up Mycroft's delicious looking apple.

"You're an animal," Mycroft comments, sounding disgusted. He often sounds like that to Greg, but Greg thinks its funny, for some reason.

He grins widely and bites down on the juicy apple, letting moisture run from the sides of his mouth. He laughs when Mycroft rolls his eyes.

"Please leave," Mycroft demands. "Now that you've successfully ruined my lunch in more ways than one."

Greg takes another large bite of apple, then stands up straight. "It's always a pleasure, Holmes," he says, dropping the apple into Mycroft's backpack. He wipes his hands on his jeans without seeing the look on Mycroft's face. He knows that if he looks up, he'll probably be compelled to apologize.

"See you around, loser," he says instead, turning away from Mycroft and walking back towards the building.

"See you around, arsehole."

Greg can't help but laugh as he pulls the door to the building open again. But once he's inside, away from Mycroft, he frowns.

_One day_, he promises. _One day I'll stop this._

* * *

He's excited when he gets to class. He laughs at the long reply waiting for him, telling him how much this other person hates this class, and he's glad he's found this person to talk to. He would have been disappointed if this person loved literature, and really he probably wouldn't find that person very interesting at all.

At the end of the paragraph, "How are you?" is written.

And even though he decided to be a jerk to Mycroft, he feels fine.

"I'm fine," he says back. "I don't particularly love this class either, but it's something we have to do, you know? What's your favorite class?"


	2. Chapter 2

He's pleased that there's a reply on Thursday afternoon, and it brightens up his day that much more. He finds himself not caring that his parents are fighting so often right now, and he also doesn't mind that Hank is bothering him a lot lately about getting a girlfriend.

He looks at the handwriting on the page in front of him and thinks it's a girl. For a second, happiness fills his stomach. Maybe he'll like this girl and he can go out with her so Hank will stop bothering him. Or…

Greg bites his lip as he writes his reply on the paper. At the end, he asks if they're a boy or a girl.

He kind of hopes it's a boy. Maybe this person is a boy so he can—

Greg stops the thought. He doesn't know where he wants it to go.

Does he want to date a boy?

Greg pushes the thought out of his mind. The handwriting in front of him is very feminine, so all he has to think about is how he'd feel about going out with a girl. If she'd even go out with him.

* * *

Greg feels disappointment on Friday afternoon when his teacher informs the class that they will not be needing their books. Usually, Greg feels overly happy when they don't use their books, but today he was excited for a reply from the person he shares a book with.

He goes through class thinking about the book, wondering if the person got to reply. At the end of class, he rushes over to the shelf before the next class enters and checks.

He grows a wide smile when the person reveals that they're male. He even feels relief that he doesn't have to try to go out with a girl just to prove something to Hank.

But just as quickly, he grows worried.

What if he's straight?

_There's no way a boy with that pretty of handwriting is straight._

Does he want to try to date him?

_I don't even know him, why am I worried about this?_

Greg decides to carry on with their simple conversations and to see where it goes.

* * *

It's blessedly silent when he wakes up on Saturday morning. He checks the time on his mobile and finds why it's so quiet; he slept in well into the morning. It's nearly 11, which means his mother left for work almost four hours ago and his dad is probably off doing whatever it is that he does when he's not at home. Since it's Saturday, he's probably at a pub preparing to watch the matches. The team they watch doesn't start for another three hours, but that doesn't stop him.

He hasn't spent much time with his dad since all of this work drama started. His dad's always had a really poor job, but about three months ago the bosses began firing people because of cutbacks. Greg's dad was at the tops of the lists to be fired, and last week, Greg's mum said she was surprised it took that long for his dad to be fired.

On top of being on the list, there was the fact that Greg's dad began to drink more because of the stress. He'd go to work right after having a long night out, and even Greg wondered how he didn't jump to the top of the firing list.

Greg figures that since he hasn't seen his dad much and he doesn't have anything to do today anyway, he'll go down to the pub to watch the match with his dad. The plan excites him, so he gets dressed quickly and makes his way over.

As expected, his dad is there. Greg makes his way over to the bar where his dad, Jim, is sitting and takes the stool next to his.

"'Lo, son!" Jim says. _Shouts_ is more like it. "What brings you here?"

"Just thought I'd watch a match with you today," Greg replies, taking off his jacket.

Jim waves over the barman. "Pint for my son, please."

"Oh no, Dad," Greg stops him.

"Why? What's the matter?"

Greg chuckles. "Because it's barely noon. I haven't even had breakfast."

Jim shrugs and takes a swig of his. "Suit yourself," he says, looking around the bar.

Greg follows his gaze around, but there aren't any recognizable faces.

When Greg turns around again to face the bar, he notices his dad is looking back still. He isn't moving, he's staring right at someone in the back of the bar. Greg decides not to look, but he's sure it's probably a woman.

Jim gives Greg his attention again a minute later, and he asks Greg about things like school and football. Greg tells his dad that his team is undefeated in football, and Jim is prideful.

"Gotta let me get you a pint, son," he pleads.

Greg smiles. "Alright, Dad. Sure."

"Alright!" Jim cries, calling the barman over again.

They silently watch the match that's on while the pub begins to fill with more people. Jim continues looking around at everyone, but nobody comes up to talk to them. Greg thought his dad had a ton of friends, but it doesn't seem like he does.

Towards the end of the match they're watching, after Greg's been there long enough to finish his lunch and a drink, a woman makes her way through the bar and leans on the stool at Jim's other side. Greg notices her touch Jim's thigh under the bar, and he quickly diverts his gaze.

He grows angry. Who is this woman? Is his dad seeing her? How could he hurt Greg's mother like this?

"Not now," Jim whispers as soon as she touches him. "This is my son."

Greg sips a new drink and pretends he can't hear.

"Call me," she whispers back, then leaves.

Jim turns to Greg again and Greg knows he wants to pretend nothing happened, but Greg can't let him.

"And who was that?" Greg asks.

"Who was who?"

"That woman."

"No one," Jim quickly says.

"Sure," Greg says.

Jim turns more to him, his entire body facing Greg now. "What are you accusing me of, son?"

"What should I be accusing you of, Dad?"

Jim shakes his head and manically laughs. "Just like your damn mother, you are. Always finding some problem to bitch about and—"

"Don't talk about my mum that way."

Jim stops. "You got something to say, boy?"

"I just did," Greg answers. "Don't talk about my mother that way. She's done nothing but good for you and how do you repay her? With that whore?"

"Hey!" Jim yells, standing to get more into Greg's face. "I didn't ask you for your god damn opinion, son. You do not understand one bit of this!"

The barman comes to them quickly. "Sir, I'm going to need to ask you to—"

Greg and Jim both ignore him.

Greg continues, "I understand that mum works her bloody arse off providing for you while you just come here to find someone to cheat on her with."

"Gregory," Jim yells, "You do not understand one bit of this. Get the fuck out of here! Go home and wait for me to go and deal with you."

"Don't come home," Greg demands, standing and pulling his coat back on.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I said don't come home. Mum doesn't deserve a worthless piece of trash like you."

Jim snaps forward and grabs Greg by the jacket collar.

"Sir!" the barman yells.

The guy who was on the seat at Greg's other side jumps up and grabs Jim's arm. He pries Jim's hand off of Greg and pushes him back, at the same time Greg steps backwards.

"Thanks," Greg mumbles at the man trying to calm his dad. He straightens his jacket and looks at his dad. "Don't come home. I'm telling mum to change the locks. No doubt she'd love to."

With that, Greg walks out of the pub, leaving his dad yelling things at him as he goes.

* * *

Greg's mother returns home from work at 5 in the afternoon, and Greg doesn't hesitate in telling her everything. As expected, she cries and cries, and she promises Greg that she'll turn everything around. They spend the rest of the night throwing away all 'toxic' things in the house: alcohol, junk food, even her cigarettes. She promises Greg a new start, and he's glad for it.

By the time he goes to bed, he finds himself wishing he had someone to talk to about all of this. The talk he had with his mother was great, he does feel that much better after that, but he just wants someone to tell him it'll all definitely be alright, that he and his mother will be okay. But there is nobody. Hank doesn't do that for him, none of his other friends are close enough to talk about anything with. He just feels lonely, and he wishes to talk to the boy in the notes.

With a mental shrug, Greg just gets ready for bed and hopes that tomorrow is easier.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg uses the notes as a distraction for the rest of the week. By Monday morning, his father is calling his mother to beg her for another chance.

Greg is glad this boy asks about his favorite book, that way he can think about something else.

On Tuesday, Jim is at the house pounding on the door to get in. Greg has to slip out the back door to get to school.

Greg goes on and on about his top favorite movies.

On Wednesday, Jim is harassing the house with phone calls again.

Greg talks about music. He lists his favorite bands, recommends songs to listen to, and promises the other boy to one day make him playlists to introduce him to this wonderful music.

On Thursday, Greg's mother gives his father a chance to talk. Just a few minutes, but they end up shouting and Greg leaves them yelling at each other in the kitchen.

Greg floods that afternoon's note telling the boy the entire plot to series seven of Doctor Who. First he's astounded that this boy had never watched Doctor Who, so by the end he feels that he's adequately filled the boy in.

* * *

On Friday morning, Greg walks his usual route to school with confidence. Besides his family drama, he's been having a good week "with" this boy. Today he's feeling confident enough to meet in real life, to get to talk to him face to face. As much as he enjoys the boy, the prospect of dating him doesn't matter anymore; Greg just wants someone to talk to.

But that'd all be too easy. He rounds the corner towards the school and literally bumps into his dad.

"Oh god," Greg mutters, automatically nervous. They're on a busy street, but that's not going to stop his dad from making a scene.

"We need to chat, son."

"We don't," Greg says, trying to walk away.

Jim steps in front of him. "We're not done until I say we're done, got that?"

Greg frowns deeply and stands still. Clearly Jim is going to be heard.

"I don't like that you decided to tattle to your Mama what you saw at the bar, Gregory." Jim's voice is deep and borderline a yell. "You've cost me a shit ton of trouble! And for what?! Everything was fine before all of this, had you just left it be, we could've—"

Greg cuts him off. "Mum deserved to know," he says. "She deserves to be happy away from you."

"And she'll be happy just with you? Boy, even your mama's gonna get bored of you! You're nothing but a stupid, worthless little boy who nobody's ever gonna love! You fucking waste of space!"

The words hit him like bricks. Nobody, especially his parents, has ever told Greg something like that. He's always had self-esteem issues, but his parents always made him feel like he mattered. Now, suddenly, he doesn't. He believes his dad's words to be true.

Tears swell in his eyes. He gathers enough strength to push Jim away and march down the street, not looking back and not caring that his dad doesn't follow.

Greg almost decides not to go to school, but there's nowhere else he could go but home and he doesn't really feel like going there, either. So he goes to school and tries to be in a good mood. Not that anyone would care, or even notice.

* * *

By lunch, he has a lot of aggression to get out. His brain wants someone else to feel worse than he does, and he decides to take it out on his easiest target: Mycroft Holmes.

Greg marches right over to the boy in the lunch line and shoves his lunch tray out of his hands.

"What the fuck, Greg?!" Mycroft yells.

"Get out of my way, Holmes."

Mycroft bends to pick up his tray. Greg watches him. He feels so much aggression that he wants…he wants to…

His mind splits to an image of himself grabbing Mycroft off the floor and shoving him against the counter where students pay for their lunches. He'd insert himself between Mycroft's spread thighs; he'd lunge for that stupid mouth and dip his tongue in without warning. He'd loosen the tie and rip the button of his perfect shirt, all while Mycroft moans his name and pants deeply into his mouth and begs him to—

It takes him a second to calm his breathing and shake the images from his head.

"Why don't you do something useful, Gregory?" Mycroft asks, standing with his tray in hand. "God, you're a wa—"

Greg can't hear again how much of a waste he is, so he grabs Mycroft by the collar and pushes him hard against the wall.

"Finish that sentence, I fucking _dare _you."

Greg feels a hand pull him away.

"Man, let it go," a voice behind him says.

He's pulled away from Mycroft, but he doesn't feel any less angry. He storms out of the cafeteria and goes straight to the locker room, where he opens his locker just to slam it shut ten times. He kicks it too, for good measure, then throws himself down on bench and buries his face in his hands. He yells at the floor and finally feels a little bit of relief.

On a last act of anger towards Mycroft for almost calling him a waste of space, he goes out to Mycroft's bike to let the air out of the tires.

Happiness finally finds him in literature classes, when he sees that the boy gave Greg his mobile number. _Finally_, Greg thinks, _Someone to talk to all the time._

* * *

He sees Mycroft out in the parking lot as he's leaving the building. He laughs when Mycroft goes to his knees to examine his bike, so he decides to go over there.

"Lost something, Holmes?" he asks as he approaches.

Mycroft stands and brushes his jeans off. He looks angry. "I'm not in the mood, Lestrade."

"I wasn't done in the lunch room today," Greg tells him, as if he knows what he was going to do before his friend pulled him away.

Mycroft grins. He's meant to look evil, maybe, but Greg likes it. "Finish too soon? That a common problem?"

Greg glares at him, suddenly not liking the grin. "Funny."

Mycroft laughs. "I thought it was."

Greg follows when Mycroft turns to walk back to the building.

"Where do you think you're going?" Greg calls after him.

"Back inside to wait for a cab because some arsehole ruined my bike."

Greg laughs to himself. "I thought it was funny."

"Yeah, I'm sure you did."

Mycroft glances at Greg over his shoulder.

"Leave me alone," he says to Greg.

"What if I don't want to?"

Mycroft turns around so fast that Greg almost runs into him.

"What is your sick obsession with me?" Mycroft yells. "Just leave. Me. Alone! I get that I'm an easy target but you need to get over this stupid thing you have out for me."

Greg feels himself start to laugh. He doesn't know why. He knows it's wrong but he's finally feeling relief from the morning. "I pick on you because it's so funny!"

"Funny? Fucking with my life is _funny_?!" Mycroft is clearly angry now. "I could fucking punch you, Lestrade, I could."

"Yeah?" Greg smirks. "Go on then."

Honestly, nobody's ever thrown a punch at him so Greg is surprised that he catches Mycroft's fist before he makes contact. His immediate reaction, though, is to hit back, so he shoves Mycroft's chest and Mycroft stumbles back with an "umf!" Greg stands in a fighting position, waiting for Mycroft to try again.

"Go ahead," Mycroft gasps for breath. "Just fucking hit me already so you can get it out of your system."

Greg feels dazed, as if he has no control of his body, as he lunges forward to punch.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

He stops himself.

_I don't want to punch Mycroft._

He feels like he's not there. Like he's having an out of body experience.

"Yeah," Mycroft says, standing up straight and adjusting his jacket. "That's what I thought. Leave me the fuck alone."

Greg doesn't follow Mycroft back into the building. He waits until Mycroft is out of sight, then he runs back behind the building and throws up. He's had panic attacks before, and this is very much one happening now. He gasps for breath but is unable to fill his body with the oxygen it needs. He knows he's about to hyperventilate, so he holds his breath for seven seconds then breathes out for eight, a technique he learned a long time ago. He braces his hands on the wall in front of him and lets his head hang between his arms.

He feels like crying. He can't believe what he's just done. Not that he ever had a chance with Mycroft, ever, but this day has definitely made having a chance nonexistent.

He wants someone to talk to. He _needs _someone to talk to. Then he remembers the number left by the boy with Book #15. So he takes a chance.

"Book #15?" his first message sent reads.

He gets a reply a second later. Relief washes over him.

He'll be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

They talk the entirety of the next week, which really is the _entirety _because they're on a week break. Greg learns so much more about this person than he ever has with anyone else, and he enjoys talking to them more than he enjoys many things. He's sad when he has to part with his phone for football practice, but the second he finishes, he begins to text again.

Greg decides not to tell this person _everything _about his life. He just says that his parents are currently going through a split and it gets to be really hard for him. He leaves out the bit about almost beating up Mycroft Holmes twice in one day _and _the bit about wanting to punch Mycroft and do unspeakable things to him at the same time.

But, through the course of the week, Greg starts to forget about all of that. He has no idea who this boy is, but realizing his feelings for the boy hits harder than a bus. He tries to flirt, but obviously his flirting techniques (punching a book out of his hands, for example) are so bad that at this rate he'll never date anyone in his life. He doesn't know if this boy knows or thinks that he's flirting, and Greg can't tell if the boy is flirting with him either.

_But shit, _Greg thinks on Sunday night, _I'm starting to really like him._

He decides to tell the boy. He keeps it casual, as to not scare him away, and it's an easier conversation than he thought it'd be.

"I just…" Greg bites his lip as he types. "I'm really starting to like you."

He waits for a reply for what seems like ten hours, and that doesn't sit well with Greg. He obviously screwed up. Everything is ruined. Why did he think he had a chance? This boy doesn't even know him, how could he have feelings for Greg?

_I am a waste, _Greg thinks. _Nobody is going to love me, just like my dad s—_

His phone vibrates in his hands.

"I think I'm starting to really like you, too."

Greg is so relieved that he wants to cry. He doesn't, but he still feels extremely happy.

* * *

Greg sees Mycroft through the crowded hallway first thing in the morning. But, he remembers, Mycroft isn't his concern anymore. This other boy is, and to him that's just…amazing.

He sends the boy a text, then goes up to Mycroft anyway.

"How's it goin', buttercup?" he says with a big grin.

"Go away."

Greg chuckles and reaches into Mycroft's locker to get a book. He drops it to the ground, happy with the loud noise it makes. He does it a second time, then Mycroft sighs and bends to pick it up.

Greg's phone vibrates in his pocket, so he doesn't watch Mycroft bend to pick his books up. Instead, he fishes his phone out and reads the text.

He's so happy it's unbelievable. Being at school, in a setting he doesn't enjoy, and being able to text this person is just wonderful. He finally feels like he can be calm all day without lashing out at anyone.

He doesn't notice he's grinning stupidly into his phone until Mycroft asks, "Someone important? Not that I care."

Greg knows Mycroft would not ever be jealous of anything he could do, but that doesn't make Greg want to make Mycroft jealous any less.

"Well," he says, "Not that it's any of your business, but yes. Someone important."

"New girlfriend?"

Greg grins. "You could say that."

Greg hears Mycroft's phone vibrate loudly in his locker, and he watches as Mycroft happily picks it up and grows a stupid grin on _his _face.

Greg's stomach jolts. He knows it's jealousy, but he chooses not to let it show. Not that it matters anymore. Mycroft isn't his concern.

"Oh no way. Don't tell me _you've _got a girlfriend?"

"No, I don't, if you must know."

"Of course," Greg says, "Because no girl would ever be crazy enough to go out with a loser like you."

Greg jumps as Mycroft throws his locker shut.

"No, if you must know, it's not because no girl wants to go out with me."

Greg watches as Mycroft steps past him to go to class.

Mycroft turns to him quickly and says, "It's because it's not a girl."

Greg feels his jaw drop open, he feels all the air leave his body.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, _he thinks. _Fuck. He's gay. I…fuck, I'm such an idiot. How did I not see? How did I not know this? Are you fucking kidding me?!_

Greg jumps as the bell rings. Still angry at himself, he rushes to class before he's marked tardy.

* * *

Honestly, the anger he feels towards himself for not knowing this about Mycroft the entire time makes him want to rush his relationship with the boy he's been talking to nonstop for weeks.

"I think we should meet," he chances one afternoon after Mycroft-stupid-Holmes looks particularly well that day.

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

_Why wouldn't it be? _Greg asks himself. He longs to meet this boy. To see him. To touch him. To definitely take his mind off of Mycroft-stupid-Holmes.

"Don't you?" he asks.

"I don't know. What if you don't like me when you meet me?"

Greg laughs out loud. The thought is so absurd. He likes this person enough to talk to him nonstop, to admit it, to suggest that they meet, and he thinks Greg won't like him?

"I like you here," Greg types. "Are you someone else in real life?"

"No, of course not."

"Then I want to meet you."

There's a few minutes before he replies, but Greg is more annoyed at the answer.

"What if you…don't like what you see?"

Greg runs a hand through his hair. As if that's an issue. Greg doesn't care. He's fallen for this boy no matter what.

_And honestly_, he thinks at the back of his mind, _You can't compete with Mycroft-stupid-Holmes anyway._

But he feels really bad for thinking that, so he types back, "I'm attracted to your brain. I'm pretty sure I'm going to find the rest of you attractive too."

"Oh my god."

Greg smiles. Sometimes he texts 'oh my god' when Greg embarrasses him by saying something sweet.

"Same for you," Greg replies. "What if you don't find me attractive?"

"I probably will."

Greg sends back a smiley face, a true representation of his face at the moment.

"So, should we meet at school or outside of school?"

Greg thought of this before. He wants to be able to be near him, he wants to touch him and hug him or kiss him and show him what he means to Greg, and Greg obviously doesn't want anyone to see. He doesn't want anyone to be mean to them, or just to the boy, so he wants to meet outside of school to have privacy.

"Outside."

"That was fast. You thought about this?"

Greg frowns. He decides to tell the truth. "Yeah. I'm sorry. See, my friends…they don't know I like boys. And they might get mean if they see us together."

"They don't have to know we're…whatever we are."

Greg smiles and decides to be honest again. "They'd know if I just walked up and kissed you the moment I met you."

"Would you?"

"I might," Greg replies, "I might be overcome with my feelings for you."

"Do you often randomly kiss people?"

_I once randomly kissed a girl in primary school and she punched me, _Greg thinks. He decides not to say that.

"Would it be unwelcome?"

"No, it wouldn't."

"Then we should meet outside of school. How about the library?"

"Sure. I like the library."

"Good, me too. So we'll meet at the library on Friday afternoon."

"Great. I can't wait."

Greg's stomach fills with butterflies. "I can't either :)"


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Side note, this one's my favorite chapter. Hope you all enjoy!**_

* * *

Greg is so excited to meet the boy that he can't sleep all of Thursday night. On Friday morning, after sleeping for only about four hours, he's up and ready and eager for school.

He rushes there and tries not to throw up when he arrives. He wanders the halls to get to class, all the while glancing at every male student he passes.

_Is that him?_

_That could be him._

_What if it's him?_

_Wow, I've never seen him before but I hope it's him._

Greg, even in his own head, has never been as comfortable with his sexuality as he is walking to class. This boy has opened up his mind and helped him embrace himself without even doing it on purpose.

* * *

The morning passes slowly, and Greg can't stop thinking about the boy. He's thinking about how happy he feels when they text, how the boy has taken his mind off all of his family drama, how he's more happy with himself than he's ever been. This boy has changed him in so many ways, and he wants to embrace that change and never go back to the way he's been.

And a part of that change, he thinks, would be to apologize to one person who really deserves an apology from him: Mycroft.

Greg wanders out to the courtyard at lunch, and of course Mycroft is there.

"What do you want?" Mycroft asks as soon as he spots Greg.

"To chat," Greg says.

Suddenly, he feels…he doesn't know how he feels. Suddenly, he feels like telling Mycroft right now everything that he feels, but he can't. He really likes the boy he's been talking to. He really, really likes him.

"I don't want to talk to you," Mycroft tells him.

Greg shoves Mycroft's backpack off the bench, then immediately regrets it.

_I'm such a fucking arse, _he thinks.

"I came to offer a truce," he says.

Mycroft leans over to get his backpack off the ground. "After just shoving my backpack off the bench?"

Greg shrugs.

"What if you broke something?"

Greg glances down at the few things that fell out of Mycroft's bag. "I didn't."

Mycroft sits up again. "What do you want a truce for anyway?"

"I'm in love," Greg quickly says.

All the air leaves his body. He didn't mean to say that, he didn't know he was thinking that, but as soon as it's out, he knows he means it.

Clearly, Mycroft is shocked, too. "She must really have an influence on you, then."

Greg wants to badly to tell Mycroft the truth, but he doesn't. "Yes," is all he says.

"Well, good for you. As long as she keeps you out of my hair, I don't care what the sudden revelation is."

"Great," Greg says, standing. He still feels shocked that he said he loves the boy. He feels like he's going to fall over. He adds, "That's settled then."

"Goodness," Mycroft says. "You alright, then?"

_Now! _Greg's brain yells at himself. _Say something!_

"What do you care?" Greg asks, staring at him.

"I don't."

Greg frowns. "Then why'd you ask?"

"Just being polite."

Greg's eyebrows furrows and looks away, still thinking very intently about something to say. "Thanks," is all that comes out.

"Alright…we done, then?"

Greg's looks at him. "Huh? Oh. Yeah."

"Bye then."

Greg's heart sinks. "Right, see ya."

_That's over with, _Greg thinks as he walks back into the building. _It's got to be over with._

* * *

Greg races to the library, where they agreed to meet, as soon as they bell rings. He doesn't have money for a cab, so he practically runs the entire way there. Though he feels kind of sweaty when he arrives, he can't risk missing the boy, so he finds an empty table behind the science fiction section to wait.

He waits for a while before realizing the boy could be there and just not know where he is, so he sends a quick text letting the boy know his location.

But dread fill his stomach. _What if he doesn't show? What if he saw me and left? What if he saw me and knows of my reputation and left because he knows I'm an arse? _Greg takes a few minutes to rethink his entire school career, to regret everything, to feel terribly sorry for being so awful to everyone, especially Mycroft.

He buries his face in his hands and is about to get up when he hears, "Oh god, no."

Greg lowers his hands and his jaw drops at the same time, complete shock washing over him. He's so surprised that he can't move, not until the other boy stumbles back against the shelf, still chanting, "No, no, no…"

Greg gets up and makes his way over to him, to _Mycroft. _Mycroft-stupid-bloody-perfect-Holmes is here. He's who Greg found, who Greg trusts and enjoys and…_loves. _

"No way, no _way,"_Mycroft still whispers.

Greg stands in front of him. His immediate thought isn't to do anything other than just apologize for everything. He starts, "Mycroft, listen—"

He falls back when Mycroft punches his chest. "You bloody tricked me! You utter fucking arsehole, Lestrade! You knew the whole time!"

Greg shouldn't be surprised that Mycroft thinks he'd do something that cruel, but it still hurts. "I didn't, I promise! I didn't know!"

"Then why aren't you as shocked as I am?!"

_Because I bloody love you so much. _"I…I…I…"

"Oh my god. I can't breathe."

Greg starts to panic as Mycroft crouches and starts to breathe too quickly. He touches Mycroft's shoulder. "Breathe, relax. Take, uh…breathe in for four seconds, then…uh…what is it? Hold your breath for seven, then breathe out for eight solid seconds."

"Are you trying to kill me?!" Mycroft yells at him.

"What?! No! It helps for panic attacks!"

Mycroft shakes his head, but he does as Greg instructed anyway. Greg just watches him, feeling scared and concerned for Mycroft right now. He doesn't want Mycroft to pass out or have a full-on attack, and honestly he's _never _been this concerned for another human.

Mycroft just stares at him, looking angry and scared himself, but Greg is sure he's scared for another reason. Greg is afraid Mycroft is going to leave and he's going to lose him forever; Mycroft is afraid _of _Greg. It makes Greg want to throw up.

Mycroft breathes out, then glares down at Greg's hand on his shoulder. Greg forgot it was there, but he quickly pulls away.

"How could you?!" Mycroft yells again.

"How could _I_?!" Greg shouts back. "I didn't do anything!"

Mycroft shakes his head. "You went on with it! You really had me going, you did, but now I—"

"What, you think I would've gone along with this if I knew it was you?!" Wait, he didn't mean to say that!

"Oh, right, my mistake. _You're _the one who is disappointed, right?"

"Me?! _You _hate _me_!"

"I hate you because you are a complete dick to me, Lestrade! For years you've been tormenting me! And I don't even know why. What did I ever do to you?!"

"Nothing!" Greg yells, adding in his head, _besides torturing me with your stupid face for years! _

"Then _why_?! Why would you ever do something like this?!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

Greg watches Mycroft rub his forehead. Clearly, he's just as confused as Greg is.

"Wait…" Mycroft mutters. "You said…you said you're in love."

Greg clears his throat, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. "I said that."

"Then…why?" Mycroft asks, practically begging for an answer. His voice turns softer, as if he wants to cry. "Greg, for god's sake, why are you so mean to me?"

"Well, clearly I wouldn't have been lately had I known—"

"Had you known. So, what? How do you feel now?"

_I feel like hugging you and telling you I've changed and kissing you and—_

"I feel…I feel sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry that you wasted all your time?"

"Yes," Greg turns to face Mycroft. "Sorry that I wasted so much time being so terrible."

Mycroft looks surprised by that answer. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm sorry for being so awful to you for so long. I…I shouldn't have, I realize that."

"Why do you realize that?"

"Because…" Greg's stomach turns. He's never opened up with anyone besides the person he'd been texting for a few weeks. And now that's it's Mycroft, well, he should still be able to open up, right? "Because I never knew you. And now I do. Don't I?"

Mycroft nods.

"I'm so sorry. I promise you, this was not a trick. I didn't know it was you."

Mycroft rubs his forehead again, looking pained. Greg's stomach turns over and over. He doesn't want Mycroft to flip out any further; he doesn't want Mycroft to have another attack.

He doesn't want Mycroft to think about this any further. He just wants to _do _and _be _so they can leave and start over fresh and new and be together and happy. Forever.

So, rather than letting Mycroft think about it, Greg reaches forward and grabs Mycroft, then presses his lips soft against Mycroft's. Closed mouth, he doesn't want to go too far without Mycroft's permission, but still the best kiss he's ever had. He's finally, _finally!_ kissing Mycroft and that's all that matters.

And, blessedly, Mycroft just stands there. Sure, he'd like Mycroft to touch him back, but he finds it a good sign that at least Mycroft isn't pushing him away.

Greg kisses him for what seems like eternity, but is really only a few seconds and his lips pressed against Mycroft's, his body tight against _Mycroft's, _and Greg's head spinning with happiness. Mycroft pushes Greg away first, but Greg feels Mycroft's hand clenched around the bottom of his shirt, and he doesn't think Mycroft knows it's there.

"I'm sorry," Greg whispers against Mycroft's lips.

"For what?"

"For everything. For being an arse. For not finding out what I was being so terrible to all that time."

"I need to think."

Greg presses his forehead against Mycroft's, not wanting to let go. "Take your time."

Greg lets Mycroft back away, even though every bone in his body begins to ache at the loss. He wants to scream and yell for Mycroft to stay, beg him not to move, to take Greg with him. He wants to shout at the top of his lungs _I love you! _but he doesn't. He stands still and watches Mycroft leave.

Once Mycroft is gone, he sits back at the table and repeatedly runs his hands through his hair. He feels overwhelmed with emotion, the highest being _joy. _

_It's Mycroft, _he thinks, beginning to laugh. _It's Mycroft and he likes me as much as I like him. I can't lose him._

* * *

Later that night, Greg is sitting on the sofa with his mother, Melissa. They're watching an old episode of Doctor Who, one of Greg's favorites, and Greg has been smiling all evening. Finally, Melissa turns to him.

"Are you going to tell me who she is?"

Greg looks at his mum. "What?"

"The girl you've been texting nonstop for weeks. Who is she?"

Greg smiles again. "I, uh…nobody."

"If you can't trust your mum, who can you trust?"

Greg laughs. _Well, no time like the present to tell her her baby boy is into other boys._

"Listen, Mum, uh—"

"Alright, alright. Who is he?"

Greg looks at her. "He?"

"Nobody starts with '_listen'_ if it's something simple. Tell me about him."

Greg begins to laugh harder and twists to bury his face in the back of the sofa. His ears burn, he feels embarrassed, and he really can't believe he's having this conversation with his mother.

Melissa laughs from across the sofa. "I've never seen you blush so hard, son!"

"Oh god," Greg groans.

Melissa kicks his thigh. "Tell your old mum. Give me some sort of entertainment!"

Greg sits up and shakes his head. "Oh god. Okay. It's…uhm…he's—"

"Please, please son, tell me it's that damn Mycroft Holmes you've been pining over for years."

Greg's eyes grow wide and he stares at Melissa. "What?!"

"When I was in school, that's how boys got your attention! By being mean! I hoped you weren't just mean to the boy for no reason. Sure, I wish you weren't so mean to him, but I knew it was coming from nowhere. I would have stopped it, after being called in to the school so often, but last year after you stopped those awful friends of yours from seriously injuring him, well…I knew you'd come to your senses."

Greg nods. "I forgot about that."

"It was heroic, son."

"I wouldn't call it heroic."

"Nobody else would've done that! So, anyway, are you finally at least talking to the boy?"

Greg nods. "Yeah, I…it's a long story."

"Tell me."

Greg sighs, then spends the next ten minutes telling his mother everything. He's glad to get everything out there, for he's wanted so badly to confide in someone, but the person he'd tell all of this to would be the person it's happening with. And tonight is the first good night him and his mother have had in weeks. No alcohol. No sneaking cigarettes. No calls from his father. No fighting. Just Greg, his mother, and Doctor Who.

"Wow," Melissa says at the end. "You kissed him?"

Greg blushes again. "Yes."

"How did it feel?"

"Amazing," Greg mutters.

Melissa squeals. "My little boy's in love!" She reaches across the sofa to pull Greg into a tight hug, then she abruptly stands.

"We need to celebrate," she says, going to the kitchen. "How about…"

Greg frowns as he hears her open the cabinet that used to hold all of the alcohol in the house. He hears her close the cabinet, then she returns to the room jingling keys.

He'd forgotten that she leaves her car keys in there sometimes.

"Ice cream?"

Greg smiles widely, then follows Melissa out of the house.

* * *

As they're driving home later, after ice cream, she turns to him and says something simple.

"Just don't give up, okay?"

Greg nods, knowing that she's referring to Mycroft 'needing to think'.

So right before bed, Greg sends Mycroft a text letting him know.

"I'll wait," it says. And he means it. He'll wait.

And he's meant it all, this whole time. Meant everything. So he adds that.

"I've meant everything I've said."

Greg's alright with not getting a reply. As long as Mycroft has read them, that's okay. So he goes to bed happy for the first time in a while.


	6. Chapter 6

When Monday finally arrives, Greg wakes up thinking that he thought today would be entirely different. He thought he'd be eager for school to see his new boyfriend, someone he spent all weekend with and would be happy to be seen with at school. But today he wakes up sad that he didn't hear from Mycroft all weekend and he doesn't know where they stand today.

Still, he's head over heels happy that it's _Mycroft. _Mycroft finally knows how he feels. He does know, though, that Mycroft knows that Greg likes the boy he'd been talking to for weeks, Mycroft doesn't know that Greg has liked him all this time.

Greg asks his mother to take him to school early, just because Greg is excited to see Mycroft. He doesn't know if Mycroft is even going to talk to him, but he'll be ready when Mycroft does.

* * *

Hank, Greg's best friend, is waiting at Greg's locker when he gets to school. Greg doesn't really want to talk to Hank, he'd really like to find Mycroft, but Hank stays and starts talking to him about completely useless things.

"I set us up a double date this weekend," Hank finally gets to.

Greg closes his locker and turns to lean his back on it. He wants so badly to decline, but he knows Hank doesn't take no for an answer.

"I, uh—"

"Not getting out of this one, Lestrade. They're twins. And super hot!"

_Is one of them Mycroft Holmes? _Greg supplies in his own head.

"I might have plans," he says instead.

"With your mum? No, you're not backing out."

Greg sighs and looks down at his shoes.

When he looks up to answer Hank again, he notices his friend Bobby walking towards them, Mycroft right behind him. His heart beats quickly and excitedly, he can't help the smile growing on his lips.

Greg thinks Mycroft is going to join them, which would be very, very surprising, but instead, Mycroft walks right past them and nods his head for Greg to follow.

"Hey," Greg says, stepping away, "Maybe Bobby wants to date twins. See you guys later."

Hank doesn't even try to stop Greg, not that Greg expected him to. So Greg happily makes his way down the hall to Mycroft, practically skipping the entire way.

Greg stands still and quiet as Mycroft starts exchanging the books from his locker to his bag. He holds his hands in front of himself, trying so hard to refrain from reaching for the boy in front of him.

"So?" he finally asks, never one for any sort of silences.

"I've been thinking," Mycroft answers.

"And?"

"And I've decided I…"

Greg watches as Mycroft's eyebrows furrow together and his face turns into a frustrated frown. He wants to laugh, but instead he just takes the bag from Mycroft and holds it open. Mycroft doesn't even say anything, he just lets it go on as if it was normal.

And Greg absolutely loves it.

"You have decided…"

Mycroft adds, "I need more time to think."

Greg can't help but laugh. "You wanted to talk just to tell me that you don't want to talk?"

Mycroft looks at him, and Greg thinks about the desire he has to look at Mycroft forever. Just like this, in the middle of a crowd, in the middle of school, just staring at each other.

"I do have one question for now," Mycroft says suddenly.

"Okay?"

"How are you still so happy after finding out that it's me?"

Greg shrugs. _Why wouldn't I be?! _he wants to yell, but Mycroft doesn't know. Mycroft doesn't know _any _of it. So he simply says, "Because…because you're _you_."

Mycroft's eyebrows furrow slightly. _Oh crap, that's cute, _Greg thinks.

"Yeah, exactly," Mycroft says. "I'm me. You hate me."

Ugh, Greg wants to punch himself! "I don't hate you."

"Okay, you were a bully to me for years."

"True," Greg concedes, "But I've spent the past few weeks trying not to develop feelings for a person I was talking to on a piece of paper, and now you're real. I don't care that you're you, I care that you're _you._"

_But I really care that you're you, _Greg supplies in his own head.

"That doesn't make any sense."

Greg smiles widely. "I know."

Mycroft rolls his eyes, something Greg is used to, and takes his bag. "You're an idiot."

Greg just shrugs.

He's sad when Mycroft steps around him to walk away.

"Can I text you?" Greg asks before Mycroft can go.

"No. I want all of our conversations to be in person from now on."

"Okay," Greg happily says. "I'll talk to you later, then."

"If you must."

Greg smiles, then walks away from Mycroft.

* * *

As much as Greg wants to have lunch outside with Mycroft today, Hank and Bobby make him stay inside so they can make a scene picking on the new kid. The only thing he's glad for is that Mycroft isn't seeing his friends do anything stupid, for he feels embarrassed even though he's not really doing anything.

* * *

On Tuesday, Greg goes outside to see Mycroft.

Mycroft looks annoyed when he gets out there, but it's a different kind of annoyed, like he's pretending or acting. It makes Greg a little bit happy.

Mycroft doesn't look over at Greg when Greg moves his backpack to sit down. Greg swings a leg over the other side of the bench to sit so that he's facing Mycroft, wanting to not miss a moment of being able to look at him freely.

"I really have to get this chapter read before lunch ends," Mycroft tells him.

Greg leans over to look at the book title. "Isn't that homework? We have, like, two days to read."

"I know," Mycroft says, "But I don't care to do any other work than math and science when I get home. If I don't read it now, I won't at all."

"Reasonable," Greg says. "I probably won't read it at all."

"Typical."

"Well, I didn't have to when _someone_told me the entire plot of the last five chapters we've had to read."

Mycroft glares at Greg. "I won't be doing that again."

Greg _pretends_ to look sad. "Aww, why not?"

Mycroft looks at his book again. "You should do your own work."

"You didn't say that last week when—"

"When I didn't know you're a lazy—"

Greg gives a real frown. "You're being mean."

Mycroft looks at him again. "_I'm_being mean?!"

"Yes!" Greg cries. "I came out here to try to talk to you. I won't leave until we have a pleasant conversation."

"Fine," Mycroft says, going back to his book.

Greg watches him absentmindedly pick up his sandwich then take a bite, and he finally notices for the first time that he's starving. He woke up late and didn't get a chance to eat breakfast, and he won't get a chance to eat until after football practice this afternoon. His stomach growls and his mouth waters as he watches Mycroft chew.

Then, to his utter delight, Mycroft extends his arm to let the sandwich land in front of Greg's face.

Greg doesn't think twice before he takes a bite.

"Isn't it funny?" Mycroft asks as he's chewing. "We've been sharing food for years. Well, you've been stealing my lunch for years."

Greg frowns, feeling guilty for eating his food now. "I'm sorry."

"Why don't you leave when I say mean things to you?" Mycroft asks. "Shouldn't you not like that?"

"Well, I don't like it. But I've done the same to you for a long time, so I guess I deserve it."

"Fair enough."

Greg licks his lips, wishing for another bite of sandwich. "How long do you think you're going to keep saying mean things to me?"

Mycroft shrugs.

"Okay," Greg says, working up the courage to ask. "Can I have another bite of your sandwich?"

Mycroft lets his arm drop to dangle the sandwich in front of Greg again.

Greg smiles and takes another bite, then watches as Mycroft reaches into his pocket and takes out a few bills.

"Here," he says, handing the money to Greg.

"What's this for?"

"Go buy lunch."

Greg shakes his head. "No, I—"

Mycroft looks at him with a serious expression on his face. "Frankly I'm tired of you stealing my lunch. And now that I know _why,_I have a solution so that we can both eat the appropriate amount of lunch. Take it."

"Mycroft, I—"

Mycroft looks back at his book. "I won't talk to you until you do."

Greg chuckles lightly. "That's ridiculous."

Mycroft is silent.

"I'm not taking your money."

More silence.

"Mycroft?"

Mycroft doesn't react, only looking more interested in his book.

"Ugh," Greg groans, snatching the money from Mycroft and getting off the bench.

Greg counts the money and has enough to get his own sandwich, crisps, apple, a banana, a cookie, and a carton of milk. He gets it all, inwardly vowing to pay Mycroft back one day.

As he's leaving the building with his tray of food, Hank calls him over to the table he's sitting at.

"Where you off to, Lestrade?"

"I'm, uh…studying."

Hank laughs.

"I do that," Greg snaps.

"Alright. Remember, date this weekend."

"Uh…" Greg mumbles. "I have plans."

Hank rolls his eyes. "Sitting on the sofa with your mum can wait a night."

Greg shrugs. "Take Bobby."

Bobby perks up with the mention of his name, and Greg makes his escape while he starts to ask Hank if he can go.

Greg returns to Mycroft and sits on the bench, setting his tray down between them and ripping the bag of crisps open.

"Hungry?" Mycroft asks, watching him.

"Yeah," Greg says, picking up his sandwich. "Thanks. A lot, really, thank you."

"You're welcome," Mycroft says. If Greg didn't know any better, he'd say Mycroft sounded a bit fond.

Greg takes three bites of sandwich and a swig of his milk before he noticed Mycroft is still staring at him. He looks up and they lock eyes, and Greg's stomach turns in a way that makes him wish he wasn't eating. It's an excited flutter, but it still makes him feel ill.

"What?" he hesitantly asks.

Mycroft blinks, as if snapping out of a trance. "You're distracting me."

"Oh…" Greg mutters, politely wiping his mouth and taking a slower bite of sandwich. "Sorry."

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "You don't have to apologize."

"Alright, then."

A comfortable silence washes over them. Greg watches Mycroft read while he eats all of the food on his tray. He offers a bite of everything to Mycroft, but Mycroft refuses. Still, Greg places a crisp against Mycroft's lips and Mycroft eats it while smiling. It makes Greg incredibly happy.

Greg finishes his food on time to clean everything up before the bell rings. He gathers all the trash, even Mycroft's, and takes it to the bin while Mycroft stands and gathers his belongings.

"Thanks for my lunch," Greg says when he returns.

"I already said you're welcome. And stop stealing my lunch, just ask me for money."

Greg shakes his head. "I don't want to do that."

"Then I'll get two lunches every day."

Greg smiles. He can't help it.

"Does that mean I can have lunch with you every day?"

Mycroft sighs, as if sounding pained. "If you must," he says, standing.

"Okay," Greg says, fearing that he sounded too eager.

Clearly, he's got a very excited look on his face, because Mycroft asks, "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, I'm just happy."

"Your smile is stupid."

"I don't think yours is stupid. But I don't see it enough to judge fully."

"Well, spending years pointedly making me frown would be why you have rarely seen my smile."

Greg's heart sinks. Just when he thinks they're getting somewhere, Mycroft reminds him of what an arse he is. _He has every right to, _Greg thinks.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Mycroft says.

Greg doesn't know what to say, so instead of saying anything, he just leans over to kiss Mycroft before the bell rings.

Greg doesn't anticipate Mycroft's hand stopping him. "What are you doing?"

"I was going to kiss you," Greg says, his lips still pressed against Mycroft's palm. He has the urge to lick it, but he doesn't.

"No."

Greg takes a step back. "Okay."

"Keep your mouth to yourself."

Disappointed, he says, "Alright."

The bell rings and Mycroft cuts away quickly. Greg just follows, glad that he now somewhat has the permission to.


	7. Chapter 7

Greg is completely overjoyed that they fall into a little routine of eating lunch together for the rest of the week. Mycroft pays, which Greg absolutely hates, but other than that he's fine with it.

On Friday, Mycroft tells Greg that he doesn't want to talk over the weekend again. Greg agrees even though he's very disappointed by it, and before the bell rings to end his Friday afternoon literature class, he scribbles 'I'll miss you this weekend.' on a piece of paper and stuffs it in the book. He knows Mycroft won't get it until Monday, but he still feels better after leaving it.

* * *

The next week, Greg thinks they do make progress getting closer. For one thing, Mycroft actually smiles when Greg appears. Another thing is that they have a long conversation about feelings, and Greg finally gets to tell Mycroft how he's felt all along.

Mycroft tells Greg that he's got to understand the distrust he feels towards Greg for being so awful for so long, and all Greg can think of is how angry he'd be if his mother went back to his father after all the hurt he's put her through. Greg says he understands, because he does.

* * *

"Ask him out on a bloody date," Melissa tells Greg while they're having dinner on Thursday evening.

Greg snorts. "How?"

"You say, 'Mr. Holmes, would you like to accompany me—'"

"No, Mum. _How_? I haven't got any way to take him on a date. And I certainly don't want you to drive us."

"Rude," Melissa mutters. "How about…take him to the park. The park is close to you, close enough to walk."

"That's not a bad idea," Greg agrees.

"And…" Melissa picks up her purse and rummages around for a second, then emerges with a few bills. She hands them to Greg. "It's enough to get ice cream or something."

Greg just looks at the money. "No, Mum, it's okay. We don't need to—"

"Son, really. It's a few dollars. It's all I have on me right now, if I had more I'd give you more."

Greg looks up at her face as he takes the money. "Thanks, Mum."

Melissa stands and takes both of their empty plates, kisses his head, and takes the plates to the sink.

* * *

The next afternoon, Greg walks Mycroft out to his bike like he usually does. The thought of seeing each other outside of school has been burning in his mind all day, so when he finally gets a chance to ask, he blurts it out.

"You want to get together tomorrow? Outside of school?"

Mycroft looks at him and blinks a few times. "Do you want to?" he asks.

_Duh! _Greg thinks.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to."

Mycroft shrugs, and Greg's stomach turns. Mycroft's acting like he doesn't care, and that doesn't make Greg feel very happy.

"We don't have to," Greg says, trying but failing to not seem disappointed.

"No. I…okay, yeah, we can get together outside of school."

Greg smiles widely. He can't help it. "Great. How about going to the park?"

"Sure," Mycroft says. "That sounds great."

Greg can't seem to stop smiling. He doesn't know the last time he was this happy. "I'll meet you at the park at two, okay?"

Mycroft nods.

Greg keeps smiling. "Okay. Bye, then."

Mycroft mounts his bike and waves once before starting off, and Greg just stands there watching. That is, until Mycroft is out of sight, Greg jumps for joy and punches the air in excitement. He's really never been this happy before.

* * *

On Saturday, Greg gets to the park well before Mycroft. Half of that reason is because he's excited, the other half is because his mother won't stop teasing him about having a date.

"I've gone on dates before, Mother," Greg said over and over.

"But you _loooove_ him!" Melissa teased.

With that, Greg left. He was embarrassed enough by the accusation, he didn't need it to go any further.

Now, sitting at the park five minutes until two, he grew nervous.

_What if he doesn't show?_

_What if he wants to tell me that he doesn't like me?_

_What if he punches me here because he'd get in trouble for doing it at school? _

Just when Greg starts to grow so nervous that he's about to make himself sick, he spots Mycroft walking down the sidewalk path towards him. He smiles widely, relieved, and stands to meet Mycroft halfway.

"Hello there," Greg says, trying to hide his nerves. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Shut up," Mycroft says, accompanied by an eye roll and a smile he gets when Greg says something flirtatious.

Greg grabs Mycroft's hand and begins to lead him further into the park.

"Come on," he says as they walk, "You like ice cream?"

"Uhm…"

"Well, your favorite flavor is _boring_ vanilla, yes, but this cart around the corner has the _best_ vanilla ice cream in the city."

He has no idea what the stupid ice cream tastes like, but he's rewarded with a wide smile, so he'll take it.

After getting their ice cream cones (Greg is glad Mycroft ordered a cone too, that way they can still hold hands as they walk), they stroll through the park with confidence. Greg holds Mycroft's hand tightly, as if letting go would mean separation forever.

"How has your weekend been so far?" Greg asks after a short moment of silence.

"Great," Mycroft answers. "My brother has been at a friend's house all day, so I finally got some studying done."

"Your brother, Sherlock?"

"Yes, the only one I have."

Greg laughs. "Right. Every time you talk about him, he sounds more and more interesting."

"Well, he's only ten. He isn't that interesting."

"Last week you told me he set fire to the water in a fish tank."

Mycroft laughs. "Yes, he did that."

"And you said on Tuesday that he dyed all of his white dress shirts blue."

"And they smelled like plums," Mycroft absentmindedly adds.

"He's interesting. Entertaining, for sure."

"Right, well, next time you need to study, come over to my house and see how much studying goes on."

"None, if I had my way. And it'd have nothing to do with your brother."

Mycroft's eyes snap to him and he looks confused for a moment.

Greg decides to clarify. "Yes, I meant that I'd make sure we'd—"

Mycroft blushes. "Oh my god."

Greg laughs.

"Do you speak in anything other than innuendo?" Mycroft asks, chuckling.

"Sure, I speak sarcasm and also a little bit of Spanish."

Mycroft laughs.

"So you got a lot of studying done," Greg says when Mycroft calms. "I don't even know why you spend so much time studying. You're smart anyway."

Mycroft blushes lightly and looks away from Greg. "I'm smart because I study."

"You're amazing," Greg argues.

Mycroft lets out a soft chuckle. Greg smiles, happy to make Mycroft happy.

"Anything worth studying for me?" Greg asks.

"All of it, if you want good grades at term."

"I get by," Greg says. "You know I have never actually studied in literature and I've still never failed."

"How?!"

"Our teacher thinks I'm cute."

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "She does not."

"She does! It's…really odd, to be honest."

"No way," Mycroft still argues.

"Fine. Don't believe me. Just don't let it be known that we're a thing or else she'd probably start failing you."

Mycroft looks at him. "A thing?"

"Yeah, a…" Greg doesn't know what to say. He didn't mean to say that, and now he doesn't know how to explain it. "…thing."

"We're a…thing."

"Technically, we're lots of things."

Mycroft looks confused.

"You know, humans. Men. Brits—"

Mycroft shoves him. "Oh, shut up."

Greg smiles. "Aren't we a thing?"

"Do you want to be?"

Greg bites his lip, afraid to say what he's thinking. _But_, he thinks, _who cares? I'm happy, I hope he's happy. Why not be able to be open with him?_

"Mycroft Holmes," Greg says, "I'd be any possible thing ever imagined if it meant I was it with you."

Mycroft blushes so hard Greg thinks he's holding his breath.

"Oh. My. God."

Greg laughs and squeezes his hand. "Come on, want to feed the ducks?"

Before Mycroft can answer, Greg breaks off in a run, pulling Mycroft along towards the duck pond.

* * *

Greg decides to kiss him twice.

After the ducks, they take a long walk all the way around the park, and Greg blames the sky. It's a surprisingly clear day, the sun is somewhat visible, and the sun shining on the trees are making a beautiful shadow pattern on Mycroft's perfect skin. When the light hits him just right, his eyes glow a color blue that Greg has never seen. It's the most beautiful color.

They're passing the playground, where kids are running and laughing and Greg watches them fondly.

"You like kids?" Mycroft asks.

Greg nods. "Yeah. They're fun."

Mycroft snorts. "You don't have an annoying little brother, that's why you think that."

"Maybe," Greg says. "But I still find them amazing."

"You're full of a lot of surprises," Mycroft says.

Greg turns to him. Mycroft's looking at him like he's suddenly the most amazing thing in the park.

Greg can't seem to look away from Mycroft then. He's glowing, his skin bright thanks to the afternoon light and his auburn hair shinier than usual. His eyes are so sparkly that Greg is transfixed, completely stuck and unable to look away even if someone at this exact moment tried to pry his eyes out of his head.

In seconds they're away from the playground and the mothers who might be upset about two boys kissing in front of their kids. Then, without waiting another second, Greg leans over to press a kiss to Mycroft's lips.

Only to miss horribly.

Mycroft laughs. Greg blushes so hard he thinks he might pass out.

"Was that supposed to be on my lips?"

Greg covers his face with both hands. "Oh god."

Mycroft laughs harder. "I haven't received many kisses in my life, but that certainly wasn't the best."

Greg groans.

Mycroft grabs his arm. "Greg, it's alright. Just…try again?"

Greg peaks through his fingers at Mycroft. "You want me to try again?"

Mycroft shrugs. "If you'd like. Unless you need a moment alone. I can come back."

Greg lowers his hands and takes a deep breath. "No, I'm ready."

Mycroft just laughs.

Greg places a hand on his cheek, then slowly leans in, this time being sure he's going to hit Mycroft's lips. When he does, he feels sparks. Like lightning striking, Mycroft's lips send jolts down Greg's spine. He doesn't ever want to do anything else but kiss Mycroft Holmes.

The only thing better than the kiss itself is Mycroft _kissing back. _His lips start soft and pliant, but they quickly turn harder and Greg feels the slight push of Mycroft wanting to give his all, too. It's clear Mycroft hasn't had much experience kissing, but Greg doesn't care. It feels amazing anyway.

Experimentally, Greg lets his tongue out to lick lightly along Mycroft's bottom lip, then he feels Mycroft's hands grip his shirt at his waist. Pleased, Greg does it again, and this time Mycroft's tongue meets his.

If Greg thought the simple kisses were nice, this is a whole new ball game. Mycroft's tongue is hot and wet and it actually _wants _to be inside Greg's mouth. But Greg gets his head on (miraculously) and remembers they're in a public park, where people can see, so he leaves the kisses light and pulls away when he can finally gather enough strength to part from Mycroft.

"Wow," Mycroft mutters.

"Yeah," Greg pants.

Suddenly, Mycroft starts to laugh. Greg can't help it, he joins.

"That's something I never thought I'd do," Mycroft says between laughs.

"What? Snog in a public park or kiss me like that at all?"

"Both," Mycroft says, his hands migrating from Greg's waist to his shoulders.

Greg lets his hands run down Mycroft's sides to his waist.

"How was it?" Greg asks.

"Mmm," Mycroft sighs. "Perhaps, maybe…I'd be open to doing that again."

Greg smiles widely. "Perfect."

* * *

The second time Greg kisses him is when they're finished at the park and decide to head for their homes. They walk together until the point at which they need to part, heading opposite directions for home, and Greg kisses him right there on the street corner. It's short, sweet, and Greg still loves it.

"I'll see you on Monday," Greg tells him.

"See you," Mycroft says.

It kills Greg to walk away, but knowing that he'll see Mycroft the day after tomorrow keeps him going.

* * *

"How was it?" Melissa asks as soon as Greg walks through the door.

Greg couldn't stop his grin even if someone told him some horrible news. "Amazing."

"Aww," Melissa sighs. She doesn't say anything more, doesn't tease Greg or question him, and for that Greg is thankful.


	8. Chapter 8

Greg can't think of anything other than Mycroft Holmes. Before, sure, Mycroft would cross his mind every once in a while. At football matches, he'd want Mycroft there to watch. He'd think about Mycroft during class, picturing perfectly an outfit he wore weeks previous that accented his body perfectly. And Greg isn't ashamed to admit he'd think of Mycroft in places like the shower or bed.

But now, since he's actually talking to and occasionally making out with Mycroft, he's literally all Greg can think about.

In math class, he thinks about Mycroft easily explaining their current chapter while their teacher has failed to help Greg understand it.

In science class, he thinks about how Mycroft always smells like a chemical. The chemicals change, and Greg actually thinks he's got science based cologne.

In literature class, he thinks about how much Mycroft hates literature. He laughs out loud thinking about Mycroft using every synonym for 'stupid' that he could think of in two minutes to describe their current novel.

In gym, he watches a few of the boys in his class and the girls in the opposite class flirt and fondly watch each other all through class. When the boys and girls are mixed, some of the girls watch the boys in awe when the boy does something awe-worthy. He wonders if Mycroft would find what he does on a field awe-worthy. He wonders if Mycroft would cheer if he scores a goal or be amazed if he lifts a lot of weights. _Probably not, _Greg thinks, _but I'd want to show off anyway. _

So no, Greg really can't think of anything other than Mycroft. And it's not that he doesn't try. He wants to think about his math test, but there's Mycroft taking up space and making him completely forget to answer four problems. He wants to think about his science experiment, but instead he thinks about Mycroft and accidentally makes the should-be-blue solution green. He wants to think about football, but he misses three perfectly set up shots because he thinks of Mycroft right as he's about to shoot. It's dreadful.

Greg thinks the only way of fixing this is to start texting Mycroft again. That way, when he starts thinking about Mycroft, he can just send Mycroft a quick text and then go on with his business.

He asks if they can start texting again three days after their somewhat date.

Mycroft does a half shrug. "I don't know. Why?"

"Because I want to."

Mycroft stares at Greg. "Why?"

Greg smiles. "Because I hope that by being able to text you, it'll scratch the itch that I have."

Mycroft cocks an eyebrow. "Itch?"

Greg taps his temple. "The itch in my brain. I can't stop thinking about you."

Mycroft slowly starts to smile. "Fine," he finally says, as if Greg is pulling off one of his arms or something. "If you must."

Greg smiles widely. "Also, I have another question."

Mycroft goes back to his book. "Sure."

"Can we kiss some more?"

Mycroft rolls his eyes and looks at Greg again. "What?"

Greg laughs and touches his lips lightly. "My lips…they feel so tingly every time I'm near you. Every time I think about you. Like you're a magnetic pull and my lips are…"

"Magnet?" Mycroft asks, giving Greg a 'your-words-aren't-impressing-me' look. Greg used to receive it a lot before they were this. He's very familiar with the look.

It still makes him blush and want to hide. He buries his face in his hands. "Oh god. Why do you even talk to me, I'm such a loser!"

"Loser, yes. Unpoetic, yes. But…"

Greg looks up, hopeful. "But?"

Mycroft shrugs and looks at his book again. "I don't know."

Greg grins. He pokes Mycroft's side. "You like me."

"No, I don't."

"Yes you do," Greg says. "I know it."

"Why would you think that?" Mycroft asks, sounding like he doesn't care.

_Because you kissed me **with your tongue, **_Greg thinks.

"Because you don't punch me every time I come near you," he says instead. Honestly, it's just as much the truth as the kissing.

"I want to."

Alright, now Greg can't tell whether or not Mycroft is joking. "Do you?"

Mycroft shrugs. "Maybe I do."

Greg picks up a corner of his sandwich and pops it in his mouth. "I'd probably let you," he says while chewing.

"Why?"

"Because I'd probably just be thankful that you're touching me."

Mycroft laughs. "You're a sap."

"I know, but I really want to say the right thing so you will—"

"Oh for god's sake—"

Greg's shirt collar is grabbed and he's yanked before he can even process what's happening. Mycroft's lips mash firmly against his, followed by Mycroft's tongue, and in the quickness of it Greg would think their teeth would clink harshly or lips would be bitten. But no, it's smooth and perfect and done to film perfection as if they were meant to kiss.

Mycroft's mouth is the hottest thing he's ever felt (not that he's felt much in this department) and he can't be blamed for the sound that escapes him. He's not even sorry for the needy moan he lets out, he doesn't even think to stop and apologize. He wants Mycroft to know what he's doing, what he's done all along.

All the fantasy kisses they've shared are nothing compared to this, to Mycroft's real hand sliding gently from his shirt to the sensitive skin of his neck; to Mycroft's tongue slowly and agonizingly penetrating his mouth; to the plushness of Mycroft's bottom lip between his teeth when he experimentally nibbles.

Greg can't do anything other than kiss back for all he's worth. His hands stay braced on the bench between them, because if he lets go and actually reaches for Mycroft, he won't be held accountable for his indecent actions.

Greg wants to kiss him forever, just like this, but of course that'd be way too perfect. He faintly hears the opening of the building door over the smack of lips, but he doesn't care enough to check who it is until Mycroft's pulling his head away.

His lips stay puckered until he sees Mycroft's eyes grow wide, then he licks his lips and follows Mycroft's gaze.

Bobby is there, staring at them with the same look of fear as Mycroft.

"Hank's looking for you," Bobby says.

"B—" Greg is going to tell his friend to tell Hank to wait a second, but right then Hank emerges from the building in a rush.

"Greggy, settle something for us, will you? I said—" Hank stops when he seems to notice Greg straightening up from being hunched toward Mycroft. "What's this?" he asks, but Greg knows he knows what _this _is.

Greg slowly stands. He just wants to tell Hank to leave Mycroft alone, that's it. "Listen, Hank—"

"I'm not talking to you," Hank says, pushing Greg out of the way. He points at Mycroft. "You."

Greg opens his mouth to shout at Hank to leave him alone, to yell at Mycroft to leave, anything, but Mycroft beats him to it.

"I'm out of here," he says, quickly gathering his things and standing from the bench.

Greg watches Mycroft leave, and he quickly realizes that he doesn't want to hide this wonderful thing growing between them. When Mycroft's gone, what is he going to tell Hank? That this is a misunderstanding? That he doesn't understand what's going on? Make excuses that Mycroft kissed him? And what better way to prove to Mycroft that he's changed than to make a grand declaration in front of God and all his friends?

So he stops Mycroft.

"Mycroft, wait."

He watches Mycroft let the door go and turn to him again, then adds, "I have something I need to say."

Hank crosses his arms, something he does when he wants to be intimidating. "Go ahead."

Greg's stomach turns and he just starts to blurt it all out. "I…well, yeah. I love Mycroft and I don't care if you want to be intimidating. I don't even care if you punch me. I love him and I…" Greg smiles. "That's it."

"You love him?" Hanks asks, sounding disgusted.

Greg keeps smiling. "Yep, I sure do."

Mycroft laughs from behind him.

Hank's gaze snaps to Mycroft. Greg immediately wants to punch him for even looking at Mycroft in a way he doesn't like, but that'd be bad in the long run.

"You have something to say?" Hank demands.

Mycroft laughs as he shakes his head. Greg beams at him.

"Nope," Mycroft says, "I think Greg said it all."

Joy blooms in Greg's stomach. _I said I love you in front of a ton of people and you agreed. _

But Hank is still there, and Greg wants to get rid of him, so his first thought is to all the bad things he's learned about Hank over the years. Some of it is jail-worthy, honestly.

"And listen," Greg says to Hank. "Now you know all of my secrets, just remember that I know all of yours."

Hank just frowns and backs away. "Fine, I think we're done here."

"Good," Greg says. "Leave us alone, then."

Hank leads the group away right after that, and to Greg's amazement a few of them look pleased and happy for him. A few of them give him a 'thumbs-up', and he's glad more than half of them are okay with this. Not that the opinion of anyone else besides the person standing behind him matters.

As soon as everyone is back inside the building, Greg is attacked. Long arms wrap around his neck and he's pulled as tight as possible against Mycroft. He's never felt so happy, so he winds his arms around Mycroft's waist and holds on for dear life.

"That was wonderful," Mycroft whispers in his ear.

"You're wonderful," Greg says back, feeling Mycroft rub his nose against his cheek.

A second later, Mycroft starts running his fingers through the hair at the back of Greg's head and Greg feels so much in bliss that he could probably get struck by lightning right now and be happy about it.

But he knows the bell is going to ring soon, so he thinks about letting go soon.

"Hey," he whispers to start to end this moment they're having. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"Were you really going to leave and let Hank beat me to a pulp?"

"Uhm…" Mycroft sighs. He squeezes Greg tighter and says, "Sssshhh, no more questions. We're hugging."

Greg laughs loudly at that. "Alright," he agrees, rubbing small circles on Mycroft's back. He suddenly couldn't care less if the bell rang right at this second and the entire student body saw them in this loving embrace.

* * *

By the end of the week, Greg receives a million text messages and hand shakes from many of the school population to let him know that they're all cool that he's gay. Sure, he'd wish people weren't so nosy about aspects of his life, he wishes he could kiss his (_boyfriend?_) without it being a public event, but he knows teenagers have nothing better to do than gossip. Plus, he's fine with all of it being words of encouragement.

Most of his friends even let him know that they're okay with it, they ask why he didn't tell them he was gay sooner and offer an ear if he needs to talk. Which is great, he's glad to have friends like that. Even Bobby lets Greg know that this is okay, he just offers an apology for being so shocked when he found them.

Greg tells his mother what happened at school, and she repeats over and over how proud of him she is.

"I can't believe how courageous you were," she says.

"It wasn't courageous, Mum."

"It was! Do you know what people are capable of doing nowadays? And you just...declared your love for him right then and there. I'm so proud of you!"

Greg smiles when Melissa kisses his head.

"Now," she says as she serves his dinner. "For the next item of business. When do I get to meet him?"

* * *

**_A/N: Epilogue next, then it's over. This has been fun, thank you so much for reading!_**


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: I'm changing the rating after this chapter to M. There's sex in this chapter. Anyway, thanks for reading and enjoying! This was fun. **_

_**Again, warning for sex.**_

* * *

If Mycroft knew before that having a boyfriend would be so much trouble, he probably would've lived his entire life fine without one.

First, there's the frankly magnificent kissing. It's not sanitary. There's tongues and teeth and sometimes there's a little bit of peanut butter or apple. And just the trouble of wanting it _all the time. _When he sees Greg first thing in the morning, they kiss. When he sees Greg between classes, they kiss. When they meet for lunch, they kiss. When they part from lunch, they kiss. When they meet again after school, they kiss. It's _all the time._

And frankly it's bloody annoying. The want, the _need _to press his face against another person's? Who's idea was this? And why is it so fantastic?

Second, there's the publicity of it all. There's the stares he gets when he enters a room. There's the constant jealous looks from girls who now hate him because they seem to think they lost their chance with Greg. There's the few glares he gets from people who hate gay people, for some odd reason (honestly, it's not like he's a serial killer). It's the fact that it's five months on and still, nobody can find anything better to talk about than Wonder-Stud Greg Lestrade dating Super-Loser Mycroft Holmes.

Third, there's all the…_feelings. _It's feeling mushy when he's near. It's feeling empty when he's gone. It's longing for him and wanting him all the time. It's sitting on the sofa and needing to run his hands through Greg's hair. It's the pleasure he finds in the simplest things like taking care of Greg by buying him a stupid sandwich. It's feeling upset for Greg when Jim tries to get in contact.

It's the burn he feels in the pit of his stomach and the base of his spine when Greg kisses him deeply, when Greg licks him at _that _spot on his neck, when Greg's fingertips butterfly touch their way up Mycroft's thigh when they're sitting on the sofa watching television, when Mycroft spreads his legs and wants Greg to—

It's the blush washing over his body when he daydreams, again, of Greg settling between his thighs and touching him the way he touches himself.

It's the fear that this is all so new and so sudden and he wasn't prepared before so five months isn't long enough to know you're ready but you're seventeen already and _fuck it _if you're not _turned on so bloody much _every afternoon because Greg whispers how much he wants you while licking the rim of your ear and pressing his hips against your thigh and he's finally told you how much he's daydreamed about you for years, to ruin you the way you want to ruin him and rumple his clothes a little bit and leave marks with your lips everywhere on his skin—

But it's also knowing that you love him. You want to show him with your body. And you want it to be beautiful.

Mycroft's sure it will be, when it finally happens. He doesn't think it'll be for a while, not with Greg afraid he's going to break Mycroft every time things are getting hot.

Which is fine.

Greg respects him. Cares for his feelings.

Which is _fine_.

Mostly.

Alright, it's getting annoying.

It's getting annoying because not only does he actually desperately want Greg to do whatever the hell Greg damn well pleases to his body, but also because he has other things to worry about, like Greg eating right, Greg's funky infected toe nail from jamming his toe playing football last week, Greg's study habits (which are more atrocious than his infected toe nail), Greg's dad staying away, and the constant worry that Greg's suddenly going to wake up one day and decide this was all a huge mistake.

So all in all, being in love is terrible. Mycroft wouldn't recommend it to anyone, instead he'd say something like, "It's awesome and terrible at the same time."

Mycroft checks his watch again. It's fifteen after. He's been sitting in this alarmingly disgusting diner for twenty minutes. The waitress has come by three times to make sure he's okay, and Mycroft thinks he probably looks like a loser who has been stood up.

_Where is he? _Mycroft wonders, staring out the window at the people passing. The few who look at him look sorry for him.

He checks his watch again. Twenty after. He takes his phone out to call that dumb boy of his when the little bell on the diner door jingles rapidly. He looks up on time for Greg to lunge forward and kiss him quickly before sliding into the booth next to him.

"Hey babe," Greg says, "Sorry I'm—"

Mycroft rubs his cheek. "I'm so glad you're here, but you stink."

Greg pauses for a moment, then lets out a loud laugh. "I'm sorry," he says, then shifts to sit at the booth across from Mycroft. He takes off his coat and lays it on the seat next to him, then folds his arms in front of him. "So, how's it going?"

"Fine, just," Mycroft sighs dramatically and looks out the window. "Sitting here, waiting forever for my boyfriend. Late again, as usual, it's like he doesn't—"

"Hey! I was on time yesterday and _you _kept _me _waiting."

"I kept you waiting because I—"

"I'm just saying if I wanted to date someone who needed eight hours to get ready before a date, I'd just date girls."

Mycroft's jaw drops. "Rude."

Greg grins and leans across the table to kiss Mycroft.

"Too bad I love you so damn much," he whispers.

"Uh huh," Mycroft says.

The waitress walks up to them while Greg is about to kiss him again, and she just politely clears her throat and smiles as Greg sits back on his side.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says. "I was just going to take down your drink orders, then you can have a few more minutes alone."

Both boys laugh and order separate coffees, then the girl disappears.

"So, why did you want to meet _here _of all place?" Mycroft asks once she's gone.

"You don't have to sound so disgusted," Greg says. "I wanted pancakes."

"I can _make _pancakes."

"Yeah, but then I'd have to go to your house smelling like this."

"It'd be far less embarrassing than having you smell like this in public."

Greg goes straight faced. "Why are you being so snippy?"

Mycroft sighs. "I've been thinking."

"Oh god," Greg says, burying his face in his hands. "Please don't tell me you've changed your mind. Please don't—"

Mycroft wants to kick himself for that choice of words. So, instead of letting Greg work himself up over this, he blurts out, "Greg I want to have sex."

Greg stops. His eyes open widely.

"With you, of course."

Mycroft thinks he broke Greg. The waitress brings their mugs of coffee, but the boys are just staring at each other.

"Ready to order?" she asks.

"Actually," Greg squeaks, his voice coming out overly excited. He clears his throat and tries again. "We just remembered we're late for something. Can we get the check?"

The girl looks confused. "You guys haven't even drank your coffee."

"That's okay. We're really late. Come on babe."

Mycroft follows Greg. He takes a ten out of his pocket and hands it to the girl.

"That should cover it, keep the change," Greg says.

"Greg—"

Greg grabs Mycroft's hand. "We're _late, _let's _go_."

Mycroft shakes his head and lets Greg drag him out of the diner.

* * *

"I have to take a shower," Greg says as soon as they get to his house. "Uhm…wait upstairs, in my bedroom. My mum won't be home for a while. And…" Greg turns back to Mycroft and glances quickly down his body. "Don't…don't take your clothes off."

Mycroft chuckles. "Greg," he says, placing both hands on Greg's cheeks. "Relax."

Greg nods. "Okay. Yeah. Relax."

"We have all the time in the world."

Greg nods again.

Mycroft leans in and kisses him, then lets Greg go to shower.

* * *

Mycroft wanders upstairs and simply sits on the edge of Greg's bed. He knows Greg will be at least ten minutes, which isn't a long time, but it seems like a ton of time when you're waiting for your boyfriend to hurry up so you can get on with the sexual part of the evening.

Mycroft checks Facebook, has half a mind to let the student body know that they're finally going to get off in each other's presence, but he doesn't.

He checks his email and even orders a football shirt Greg's wanted for months but never just buys himself.

Finally, Greg enters the room. His skin is a bit red and still steaming from the hot shower. He's wearing only a pair of black pants, which are unbearably sexy, and an expression that looks both nervous and excited. Mycroft's only seen this expression before when Greg's football team was playing for the city championship.

Greg slowly and silently steps over to the bed, then places a hand on Mycroft's cheek and leans in to kiss him slowly. Then, they waste no time. Mycroft pulls Greg down onto his lap and Greg pushes back until Mycroft's laying flat on the bed, his hands skimming up and down Greg's hot skin.

Their kissing seems different, that's something Mycroft notices. When they're making out in bed, it's fast and eager and almost too much, but now it's slow and sensual with hands all over and Greg tastes differently, he tastes like love and patience.

Mycroft's hands dip into the waistband of Greg's pants and Greg moans.

"No," Greg whispers as he pulls away. "You first."

Confused, Mycroft lets himself be rearranged until he's laying on Greg's pillows. But thankfully, Greg starts unbuttoning his shirt and removing his tie.

"Please wear something with less buttons sometimes," Greg says as he shifts to lick and suck at Mycroft's newly exposed neck.

Mycroft lightly pulls Greg's hair and just moans at the feeling, letting Greg undress him without any sort of offer to help.

Finally, his shirt is all the way undone, so he sits up to pull it off his shoulders. That's when Greg starts on his belt and jeans, and Mycroft doesn't help until he lifts his hips for Greg to get them off.

"Oh god," Greg whispers at the first site of Mycroft's not surprisingly erect cock.

"Is it…" Mycroft bashfully swallows. "Okay?"

Greg looks back up at Mycroft's face, then attacks with a deep kiss. He adjusts so he's between Mycroft's thighs, which is fine, then lays completely over Mycroft so their hips are lined up.

They aren't aligned perfectly, but it doesn't diminish the pleasure that rushes through Mycroft when Greg thrusts his hips down.

"Oh god, _Greg_…" Mycroft moans.

Greg does it again, this time sucking at Mycroft's neck again.

They get a steady rhythm going, their hips bucking together and matching each other on groans. Greg digs his fingers into Mycroft's hair and cradles his head as they kiss; Mycroft gets his hands all the way into Greg's underpants.

"Greg…" Mycroft whispers after a minute. "I…I want you too…"

"What?" Greg pants in his face. "What, anything tell me?"

"T-touch my…"

Greg leans down to suck on Mycroft's bottom lip, then he's gone in a flash. He leaves the bedroom for less than a minute and returns with a bottle of lube in his hands.

"What's that for?"

"It's for me to touch you with," Greg says. "Spread your legs."

Mycroft bites his lip. He wanted Greg to get him off, he's not sure he's ready for _that._

"Greg, I—"

"No, no," Greg says. "It's not for _that, _not yet. I'll touch your…" Greg looks down at Mycroft's dick and licks his lips.

"Oh…" Mycroft sighs, relieved. "Well…why do you need that?"

Greg pours some onto his hand. "What do you touch yourself with?"

"With…" Mycroft blushes. "My hand?"

Greg laughs. "You don't use lube?"

Mycroft blushes harder. "Uhm…"

Greg leans over and kisses him again, and a second later Mycroft feels warm gel surrounding his cock and the slick slide of Greg's hand on him feels better than ever expected. Mycroft can't help throwing his head back and moaning loudly with pleasure.

"Oh my—"

"Good, right?"

"Oh my…"

Greg chuckles before kissing him again.

Greg's laying over Mycroft, his thighs on either side of one of Mycroft's, and he's got enough room to keep his hand moving comfortably between them. Mycroft sobs under him, practically whining with each pass of Greg's palm over the head of his cock, then Greg squeezes tighter when his hand slides back down, and Mycroft can't stop the noises he's making.

Greg's thrusting his hips against Mycroft's thigh, and Mycroft notices that he's going untouched in this whole thing. Mycroft's hands are of no use on Greg's back.

"Greg, I want…"

"What?"

Mycroft bites Greg's earlobe and says he wants to touch Greg, too. "I want to feel you…"

Greg moans loudly, then lets Mycroft go so he can shimmy out of his pants and settle fully between Mycroft's legs again. He pours a little bit more lube onto his hand, then takes both of their cocks between them in as tight a fist that he can make.

They slide together easily, just like each of their kisses, they're perfect like they're supposed to be. Like they're meant to fit together like this, perfectly with heat and sweat and sloppy kisses between moans and that feeling at the base of his spine is greater, almost like he can't control it and he _can't _control his hips thrusting upwards at Greg, his fingernails digging into Greg's back, and the embarrassing sounds he's making.

And suddenly he's ripped apart. His back arches harshly off the bed and his vision is white and he can hear his own pulse in his ears and he yells, loudly, drowning out Greg's own loud groan and there's wetness all over his stomach, it's hot and sticky and they're mixed together more intimately than just saliva and germs, it's _them. _

Greg finally lets go and carefully climbs off Mycroft to not smear his own stomach with their mess. He catches his breath while getting tissues from his bedside table, then dabs all over Mycroft to get him clean.

"Wow," is all Mycroft can think to say. "Just…_wow_."

Greg laughs. "Good?"

"Brilliant."

Greg tosses the tissues in the bin under his desk and returns to the bed with Mycroft. Mycroft opens his arms and pulls Greg in, winding around him tightly and feeling his heart rate slow to normal.

"I thought it was brilliant too," Greg says. "Unbelievably sexy, you have no idea."

"Was it everything you've hoped and dreamed?"

"Better," Greg says, kissing Mycroft's cheek. Three times, Greg's usual habit.

They fall silent after that, both of them feeling too relaxed to care that they skipped dinner or that Greg's mother will be home probably pretty soon. They don't want to part; they don't want to be any further away from each other than they need to be.

Greg speaks first. He usually does, he has a hard time staying quiet for long.

"I don't know what to say now."

Mycroft laughs. "I've actually rendered you speechless?"

Greg smiles. "I just fear that everything I want to say is going to seem stupid."

"Well, don't fear. I'm still willing to listen to anything stupid you have to say."

Greg chuckles. "Yeah, I know. You tolerate hearing about Doctor Who."

Mycroft kisses his head. "That I do, my love."

Greg tilts his head up to kiss Mycroft's lips. It's soft and slow and wonderful.

"How long until your mum gets home?" Mycroft whispers between kisses.

"About an hour."

"Perfect," Mycroft replies, then pushes Greg onto his back and climbs over him without their lips breaking contact.

_Maybe, _Mycroft thinks, _getting a boyfriend wasn't so much trouble after all. _


End file.
